Two elementary schools had been hit by the level EF4 storm. Children were dead. Parents who flocked to the school were reportedly kept away from the perimeter so that rescuers could hear any voices that might be crying for help. My first thought as I surveyed the rubble was, Why?

I don't have sons. I have two daughters. I've never had to say "no" to violent movies and video games. I've never had to explain that hands are not for hitting. Neither of my two girls ever picked up a stick and pretended it was a gun.

I understand the instinct: the need to connect, to empathize, to be a part of an experience. It's why we call them "shared experiences"; why we call them "national tragedies." In the nitty-gritty though, they are not. They are not shared and they are not national -- they are so very deeply personal.

The danger of opting for the storyline over a more complex and present truth is this: When we make up stories, we create an alternate reality. Rather than looking at our situation straight in the eye, we look at it from behind a protective lens.

I love the New York Yankees, but I'll be honest with you. After this week's tragedy in Boston, I began to wonder if it would ever feel safe to attend a game again. If the Boston event confirmed one thing to us, it's that mass violence has officially entered the public square, and that we can never know who -- or what -- the next target will be.

So give us a brief time to cry, to grieve. Something really bad happened. Let us work through our emotions. Then after that, spit in the eye of fate and the madmen, be proud of our cities and our nationality, and gain revenge in normality.

We are all innocent bystanders to tragedy now. Americans live in era of terrible violence, which finds us in our movie theaters and our schools and our streets full of joyful citizens. Those who do such terrible deeds seem to have forgotten what it means to be human. But we don't have to.

How do we wake to a new day and move forward? What do we say to ourselves, to each other, to our children? Sadly, no explanation can make sense of this mindless devastation. Nonetheless, there are some things we can do to take care of ourselves and to take care of each other.

These very different "shots heard round the world" should both call us to attention and remind us of everything we have to celebrate and be thankful. May those who are bereft be comforted. May those who sustained injuries find a healing of wholeness.

Even if life is tragic right now, even if it won't get better right now or tomorrow or the next day, I want to tell you that you have the power to transform yourself and transform your situation and to rise above. To go beyond.

This shocking event has captured the attention of most of the world, and there is some small solace in knowing that millions of hearts are sharing in concern and compassion for the victims and their families.

That bumper sticker kept going over and over in my mind: "The best things in life aren't things." And yet, as true as I knew it to be, I still couldn't help but feel somewhat sick to my stomach that most of my things were now in a pile of ash.